


Sanctity

by nephilimsss



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, Vikings (TV)
Genre: Body Worship, F/M, Hvitserk is so fucking sweet and you cannot tell me otherwise, Hvitserk is sweet, Oral Sex, Pagan Gods, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:01:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29005731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nephilimsss/pseuds/nephilimsss
Summary: SUMMARY ➨ the goddess of war, freyja, is put onto kattegat to aid the lothbroks during their future raids. both the seer and aslaug have seen her coming, and the queen welcomes her with open arms. catching the eye of hvitserk lothbrok, she treats him as no one has done before; as an equal, instead of a dog.WARNINGS ➨ unprotected sex, body worship, oral sex (male and female receiving), soft!hvitty.WORD COUNT ➨ 3,080SELENE NOTE ➨ this was a spur of the moment fic, so there might be some misinformation, though i tried to do as much research as i could on freyja!  in this fic, freyja is blonde and blue eyed. according to the myths, she is described as having “long flowing blond hair, blue eyes and a gorgeous figure which she doesn't mind flaunting, as she often appears naked to her worshipers.” i also imagined her face claim to be emilia clarke as daenerys targaryen, but much taller. this is what she wears in this fic: https://pin.it/2IOXKvF the braids in viking culture reference is from this q&a, and, as the answerer stated, it is an idea. it isn’t a proven fact, though i will pretend that it is for this one fic. hvitserk gifs by honestsycrets.
Relationships: Hvitserk (Vikings)/Original Female Character(s), Hvitserk(Vikings)/Freyja
Kudos: 3





	Sanctity

standing tall in front of the kneeling crowd, her falcon feather cloak covered freyja’s shoulders from the cold winds of kattegat, her saphire eyes looking down upon aslaug. she’s known the queen since the mortal was a young girl; only she, freyja, can give certain humans the gift of being a volva, and it was she who granted aslaug to have her four sons. aslaug was one of her most loyal worshippers, silently praying to her every night to let her see the things others couldn’t, to allow her to worship her as the goddess deemed fit.

“i’ve longed to lay my own eyes upon you,” aslaug’s head moves up to view the goddess, tears in her eyes as she takes in the form of the woman she worshipped since she was a young girl. 

“i know,” freyja wipes a tear that trekked its way down her cheek, “my _child_. i’ve listened to all your prayers and granted those in which i was given permission to grant. i’ve received all of your sacrifices. i thank you for them.” she kneels, feet tucked under her, and takes aslaug’s face into her hands. “if you want to continue to worship me, my favorites are cowslips and oranges.” she places a soft kiss on the edge of aslaug’s strawberry blond hair, keeping her cheeks warm with her hands. 

she stands, her hands moving down the queen’s body to clasp her hands, “come, let’s celebrate.” 

freyja towers over everyone, silver hair swaying in small ringlets past her hips, right hand holding onto’s aslaug’s left as she leads her to the great hall. with every step she took, the opal beads of her necklace twinkled with every step, the gold fastenings glinting softly in the pale light of winter. “stand and join us,” she looks at the crowd over her left shoulder, smiling brightly at everyone who began to stand. seeing an old man struggle to get up, she grabs onto his wrinkled hand, keeping a steady grip on it as she used some of her strength to easily lift him to his feet. “thank you, goddess freyja,” he bows his head. the sons of ragnar keep up with their mother, hearts beating rapidly as their eyes took in the sight of freyja, the goddess their mother worshipped with her very being. they remembered the tales aslaug told them as children, remembered how she told them to pray to her for successful raids and battles, remembered when she used to sing songs in praise of her. 

a few paces away from the great hall, the goddess stops, turning around to face the four boys with a small smile. “you must be the sons of aslaug,” she eyes them with a proud glint in her eyes. 

“we are,” ubbe nods.

“i remembered when your mother prayed for you all,” she notes, seeing ivar slither along the ground, his upper body holding him up to let him see her. “and you must be ivar lothbrok,” she releases the mother’s hand, stepping up towards the crippled man, pulling up her skirts as she kneeled to let him view her with ease. “your mother specially prayed for you,” she caresses his face, feeling the side whiskers he had grown out. “she sang praises when you survived your first year,” her voice lowered to a whisper, only addressing him as the rest of kattegat eyed them nervously. 

despite his inner efforts, ivar smiled, the once curious gaze he wore melting into one of pure happiness until he notices her eyes looking back to his legs, taking in his deformity. “i can carry you to the great hall, if you’d like,” she whispers. “that way you don’t dirty your clothes more than you already have.” his face falling back to that of anger, he motioned for her to do so as she pleased, already wanting to give his arms a break. another warm smile from freyja, she stands up, picking him up in her arms and placing him on her back. his arms wrap around her, cheeks tickled by the feathers of her cloak, his body crying in relief from the pain he had been feeling. 

aslaug’s heart brightened, seeing her goddess treat her son as an equal instead of something to be thrown around and joked about as people have during his younger years. “come along,” she waves the others forward, “i believe this calls for a feast!” 

people cheer as they rush towards the great hall, stomachs grumbling for food, mead, and whatever else they’d be able to receive during the night. 

* * *

music played, loud chatter filled the halls, and goats bleated as they walked along tables and through parted legs. raising a chalice of mead to her lips, freyja watches the feast commence, turning a knife between her fingers. the second eldest son of aslaug kept giving her glances, licking his lips once in a while as he took in the shape of her body. 

being the goddess of fertility amongst many other things, her body was the perfect image of a woman’s who’d had gone through multiple pregnancies. his pants felt tighter around his lap, taking in the beauty of the goddess before him. 

“you keep staring at her like you’d like to jump her,” ubbe tells him, mouth still full with chicken.

“i do not want to jump her, brother,” he turns to his second plate of food.

“fuck her then?” ubbe laughs. “she is also the goddess of sex, you know. she might be willing, and great at it at that. go to her. she’s watching you too.” hvitserk faces her, seeing the blonde turn away to face his mother once again. “why don’t you go over there?” ubbe pours more mead into his cup, knocking his brother with his elbow. 

“she’s a goddess, ubbe,” hvitserk seethes through his teeth, stabbing a honeyed carrot with his fork, eyebrows furrowing. 

“so?” his brother raises an eyebrow. “she’s a woman still. does she not breathe? does her heart not beat? does she not feel the emotions us humans feel?” hvitserk stops chewing, contemplating his brother’s words. it is true, what he was saying, but he would feel an immense amount of shame if she turned him away. everyone would laugh at him as he walked back to his table with his tail between his legs. 

“she leaving,” ubbe nods to her. 

throwing his fork onto the plate, hvitserk hurries from his chair, feet carrying him to where he saw you go. a few peole stared at him as he left, though they were too drunk to notice freyja was gone also. he saw her sitting on the docks, face titled up to the sky. 

“i see you’ve decided to join me, prince hvitserk,” her voice broke the quietness of the night outside, the moon shining down on her, giving her a celestial glow. he stood above her, looking down upon her face. he didn’t know how to respond; being around her made his tongue feel like lead in his mouth. “sit with me,” she pats the empty spot next to her, smiling at him once again. moving his cloak so he won’t sit on it, he sits down next to her, feet sitting on top of water below, small waves lapping against the sides of the logs that held up the dock. “how is your first night in kattegat?” he clears his throat, eyes taking in her face.

her top lip was a little fuller than her bottom lip, her eyes were a little bagged, her cheeks had a pink tint to them. she was very beautiful, hvitserk noted, listening to her answer his question. “it’s been very nice,” she plays with the hem of her dress, “your mother has been very attentive.” she chuckles, filling the air with the magical twinkle of bells. 

“i would expect her to be like that around people she trusts,” he laughs.

* * *

they talked for a while, hvitserk having gone back inside for a second to bring back mead and chalices for them to drink from. “can. . .” hvitserk stutters a bit, “can i do something?”

freyja nods, turning to face him, saphire eyes twinkling in the light of the moon. placing his warm hand on her cheek, he leans in, placing his lips on hers, feeling her respond quickly, her own hand grasping at the fur of his cloak, bringing him closer to her. she moans lightly, pulling away from him, her breath kissing his lips lightly. 

_“fuck.”_

* * *

keeping her body against his, hvitserk’s hand travels alongside the soft curves of freyja’s body, the warmth of the hearth in his cabin made the earth stifling hot. the arousal they both felt making their senses heighten to every touch, every kiss, every whisper of breath and caress of their hair. freyja pulls the laces of his tunic, pulling away from him, her hands traveling under the fabric, her dexterous fingers tugging it above his head. throwing it over her shoulder, freyja immediately pulled him closer to her, lips once again finding his in the orange light of the fire.

hvitserk’s hand pressed flat against the top of her back, pressing her against him, loving the way her body responded to his touches. “hm,” he pulls away from her addictive lips, his hand moving away from her hip, turning the small figuring of odin so he wouldn’t face them anymore. a small laugh tears itself from her lips before she pushes him to the bed, straddling his hips, feeling his hands settle on the curve between her derriere and thighs. her lips land on the junction where his neck and shoulder meet, feeling the stubble along his jaw prick against her cheek. licking his jugular, she hears his moan, his neck arching back to give her more access to his skin. freyja’s hand travels down his body, the softness of the hair he grew on his chest, the gentle feel of his skin under her fingertips, the airy moans let out against her ear as she continued to kiss, lap, and suck on the pale skin of his neck. 

slipping her fingers under the fabric of his trousers, she grasps his shaft, hot and heavy in her hand. she caresses it, going from the base, where a tuft of hair covered the pallid skin, to the tip, where wetness gathered and made it glisten in whatever little light it received. the more she touched, the faster she went, and the more frequent his moans became. 

he grabbed onto the braided hair on the back of her head, pulling her from her spot on his neck, stained with a dark purple bruise, to his lips, wanting to taste her own once more. his free hand grabs on to the laces of her dress, managing to untie them (though with some difficulty), freyja feeling her breasts be liberated from the confines of the blue and white dress she wore on that day, sitting up on hvitserk’s lap to allow him to slip it down her body, skin gleaming softly in the candle light. she was so perfect, so beautiful, that hvitserk couldn’t help but stare, his hands wandering along her body, feeling the curve of her hips, the fullness of her breast, the softness of her nipples. “is it true that you sometimes come to your worshippers naked?” he asks, voice delicate in the stifling cabin air.

“sometimes,” she bends down, lips touching the shell of his ear, “if they’re lucky enough.” she takes the helix between her teeth, biting it softly before pulling away, hands pushing down on hvitserk’s body to help her stand up, the dress falling to the ground, her body coming into full view. stepping out from the heap of fabric, her toes stepping on the back of her boots as she tugged them off, her hands tugging his trousers down his strong legs, his member coming up to slap against the soft skin of his stomach. wrapping her hand around the base, she kneels on the ground, feet tucked under her body, her lips coming in contact with the tip of his penis. she presses a kiss, pulling away as a small string of his precum sticking to her bottom lip, a small smile tugging at the corners. 

licking at it, she breaks the connection before she comes back to his cock, taking in as much as she could in one go. hvitserk gasps, his head falling back on the bed, one of his hand coming up to wrap around the back of her head, not to control her or to push her down further, but to feel closer. her hair had so many braids, complicated and intricate, divine and beautiful. his mother had told him how braids in their culture showed social status, and seeing freyja’s hair, he wondered how many braids odin wore as the all-father. 

“gods,” he jerked his hips when he felt her take him in so far, the tip of her nose pressed against his pubic bone.

he felt her release a giggle around him, sending small shockwaves through his body, his spine curving back, his head tilting so the ends of his hair flitted against his waist. she felt so good around him, taking in as much as she could, fitting his entirety into her mouth. his thighs began to shake periodically, his spine stiffening as his peak came closer and closer, his moans becoming louder, the grip on her hair becoming harder. 

“fuck, freyja,” he releases in her mouth, holding her head to his pubic bone, making her take all of his cum. swallowing around him, she lets out a whine, loving the taste of sweet yet saltiness of him, one hand grabbing onto his shaking thigh. 

she pulls away, kissing her way up his torso, her hands cradling his neck, straightening as she feels hvitserk sit up. 

her hands pull at his braid, his own holding onto the curve of her hips, wrapping around the small of her back. their lips connect, tongues embracing midway, hvitserk tasting his own seed, and, in a way, finds it bewitching, tasting it on a goddess’s own tongue. how had he gotten this lucky? how had he gotten lucky enough to have freyja in his bed, giving him the utmost pleasure he’s ever felt? no matter how many women he’s bedded, there was a major gap between the simple releases he received from the women and the soul crushing orgasm he received from freyja. if he had gotten that much pleasure from her lips, he wondered how her cunt compared. 

his hands wandered from her back to her thighs, using the strength in his body to pull her up, feeling the wetness of her lower lips settle on his cock, her clit hitting perfectly against his tip. whatever wetness she had released slowly travelled down his stiffness. her hand grabbed onto him, moving his cock so it would rub against her slit, teasing her hole as she took his tongue in her mouth, sucking on it like she did his member. 

she frees his tongue, raising her hips enough to take him into her warm cavern. hvitserk’s arms pull her tightly against his body, gasping in her ear when he felt the warmth of her wetness enclosing around him, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other crossing over the middle of her back and the hand holding onto her hair. 

she begins moving, rolling her hips up so only his tip remained inside her, then back down so her clit rested against the wiry hair. her hips quicken, the sounds of their moans and skin slapping against each other filled the air, hvitserk’s eyebrows furrowing deeply as his mouth fell open. “freyja,” he moans, “it’s like your pussy was made by the. . .” he stops short, a laugh tearing out his lips, freyja slowing down as they both chuckle at his slight mistake. 

“i thank you, hvitserk,” she starts the same rhyhmic roll of her hips, lips pressing against the shell of his ear. “you’re the first one to make me feel this way.” this gives a boost to his confidence, gaining enough strength in him to flip them over, freyja’s bac landing on the furs with a _huff_. 

his hips snap against hers, hands holding her legs up against her chest, giving him better access. “hvitserk,” his name leaves her as a small scream, hands travelling up to grip at the pillows above her bed. 

he could feel her walls flutter against him, alerting him of her incoming orgasm. he reaches down, the tips of his fingers pressing against her clit, rubbing it in time with the snap of his hips. “oh fu -” she tries to form a sentence, but the pleasure that wracked through her body left her unable to do so. “you feel so. . . so. . . g -” her orgasm hit her, her legs shaking uncontrollably as she gushed around him, leaving a thick white cream at the base of his cock. the way her walls constricted around him left him weak, jerking his hips against her, holding him in place as he released inside him.

he shouldn’t have came inside her, he knew this just like he knew that freyja is also the goddess of fertility as much as she is the goddess of sex, but he couldn’t help it. she felt so good around him, she gripped him tightly, almost as she wanted him to cum inside her and give her more children. letting go of her legs, they spread for him, hvitserk falling towards her chest, his head landing against her breasts. he presses kisses on her sweaty skin, keeping himself inside of her, keeping her plugged so none of his sperm came out. 

“fuck, you’re like a kitten of frey. . .” 

“- ja.”

he chuckles against her stomach before going back to pressing those small kisses on her skin. “i want. . .” he muttered, his cock slowly moving out of her, “i _need_ more. please, i need _more_.” he’s _begging_ her, craving her once again, small tears trekking their way down his cheeks and falling upon freyja’s skin. he’s crying for her to fuck him again and freyja’s heart softens just a little.

“tomorrow, hvitserk,” she pulls him back up to her, making him look into her azure eyes. “rest. i’ll be here for you in the morning.” he nods, almost childish, in a way, and slumps against her body. 


End file.
